Build it Strong (The Ballard Brothers of Darling Bay Book 2)

by Rachael Herron

  “The worst thing you ever did was leave without saying goodbye.”

  “Diana—”

  “But if you bring that man back with you the next time you come home, I might consider forgiving you for that, too.”

  Had she not read the whole email? Didn’t she know that Tuesday had blown it? She’d hurt everyone that mattered. Well, Diana would be able to watch the episode soon enough—the whole world would see Tuesday pick a stupid house over the love of her life. “No, he’s gone.”

  “Why’d he go to all that trouble to get you back on the phone with your best friend?”

  The sudden burst of radiant hope was too blinding—Tuesday had to close her eyes. “I don’t know. Oh, God. What do I do?”

  “You go talk to him.”

  “I think I hurt him too much.”

  “Just go ask him. Talk to him. And Tuesday?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Believe what the man says. People say things for a reason, and you have to trust them. You don’t earn love. You have it or you don’t.”

  “And what if I don’t?”

  “Just go talk to him.”

  “Diana?”

  “Yeah?”

  Tuesday’s heart beat so hard she could feel her pulse fluttering in her neck. “I missed you so much.”

  Chapter 38

  T

  uesday had been to the Ballard Brothers’ office three or four times, usually with Felicia, always to sign something. The old house was fitted with an office in the front, and living space in the back—it was attractive if a little rough around the edges.

  Liam stood up from his desk. He looked surprised to see her, but not displeased. “If you’re here to talk to him, you couldn’t have come at a better time. I’ve told him to turn down the music three times. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

  The back workshop was to the side of the property, down a short driveway. “He’s in there. It looks like a garage but it hasn’t held a car in fifty years.” The banging that was thundering out the building competed with the decibel level of the pulsing rock music. “Get him to shut that down, would you?”

  Liam turned and went back to the main house.

  Tuesday wanted to follow him. Her body felt boneless, as if she were floating toward the workshop. But she heard her shoes scuff the gravel, and overhead, an enormous bird landed in a sycamore, the branch giving an ominous crack. She looked up.

  A falcon. A smallish one, red tailed and sleek-feathered, it tilted its head to look at her.

  It was a sign.

  The problem was Tuesday had no idea what the sign meant. Did it mean she was doing the right thing?

  Or was it warning her to run?

  She turned in place twice.

  She would knock on the shed’s door.

  No, she would leave.

  One more pivot.

  “Are you doing some kind of dance out here?”

  Tuesday froze, mid spin. “Um.”

  “Because it’s weird.”

  She turned to face him. God, he was glorious. He wore a tight T-shirt which had once been white and was now streaked with grease and ripped at the hem. Old jeans. Black scuffed boots. Two days’ worth of stubble, and a look in his eyes like he’d just lost a boxing match. He held a wrench in his hand.

  Tuesday struggled to breathe.

  “Yeah?”

  She pointed upward. “Is that a falcon?”

  Aidan’s head went back. “Oh, damn.”

  “It is, right?” She focused on his Adam’s apple in an effort to avoid staring at the rest of his body.

  “Yeah.”

  “Is that a sign?”

  He shrugged. “If you say it is.”

  “Aidan—”

  He sighed. “If you’ve got something to say, why don’t you just get on with it so I can get back to work.”

  This was too hard.

  She couldn’t do it.

  Diana’s voice rang clear in her head: Just tell him.

  “I need a widow’s walk built. I was wondering if you did that kind of work.”

  He rubbed his eyes with one hand. “What?”

  “Widow’s walk. It’s this raised level of a house—”

  “Obviously, I know what it is. But what are you talking about? You’re leaving town.”

  “I’m what?”

  “You said you were.” He shoved the wrench into his back pocket.

  “I didn’t.”

  “You said you were going to put the house on Airbnb.”

  “Oh, God. I didn’t mean it. I just said I could, if I wanted to. I was trying to prove a point.”

  “Do you ever take words seriously? Do they matter to you at all?”

  Tuesday pressed her heels together in an effort to stand still. Instead, she just felt wobbly. “I do. I swear I do.”

  “Why, then? Why the widow’s walk?”

  Tuesday had thought it had taken courage to answer Diana’s call. That courage was nothing compared to what she needed to dredge from the bottom of her soul now. She took a deep breath. “Because I want to stand watch up there. I want to wait for the man I love to come home.”

  “Oh.” He shoved his hands into his front pockets. “You dating a sailor now?”

  She shook her head. “He flies.”

  Aidan’s dark blue eyes heated, and though he didn’t move a muscle, Tuesday could feel something shift between them. “He does, huh.”

  “And I worry.”

  “About what?”

  “Statistics. That one in a thousand fatality rate.”

  “What right do you have to worry about him?” Aidan stuck out his jaw, but his eyes said everything else that she needed to hear.

  “I’m in love with him.”

  “What if he doesn’t love you back?”

  She echoed his words, the one he’d said weeks ago, in the bathroom of her new house. “Then I’m doomed. Already gone. I’ll just enjoy it as much as possible.”

  He took one step toward her as if he were been dragged. As if he couldn’t help it. “You lied to me.”

  “I did.” Tuesday felt sweat start on her hairline. “And I’m very sorry. That was wrong, and I wish I hadn’t. I just didn’t want you to see me as broken, even though that’s exactly what I am.”

  Aidan took one more step toward her. “You think I care?”

  “You said you wanted your kids to have their mother’s mouth.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t give a crap. I just happened to be looking at your mouth when I said that. You know the man who raised me, who made me into the man I am—we had nothing in common biologically. But he was my real father, and my whole life is built around making that man proud.”

  Tuesday’s fingers started shaking. “Oh.”

  “I thought you were like a robin.”

  Her heart stuttered. “I can see that comparison.”

  “But you’re more like the falcon.” He gestured upward, but didn’t lift his eyes from her face. “Because you can see a long, long way.”

  “I could see farther if I had a widow’s walk. And someone to build it for me.”

  One more step closer. “You’ll have to call it something else. I don’t like thinking of you as a widow.”

  Tuesday held her breath for a long moment, so long that bright sparks skittered at the edge of her vision. “What would I be instead?”

  He closed the last step between them. “Mine.”

  “Build it strong, so it doesn’t fall off this time.” She put her hand on his chest. His heart thundered against her fingertips.

  “That’s what I do best.”

  She smiled at him. “No, it’s not.”

  With a groan, he pulled her against him. “Jesus, woman.”

  “I love you.” It was so sweet on her tongue. She wanted to say it until she ran out of air, out of life itself. “I love you.”

  His kiss was all the answer she needed, but a moment later he pulled away, his voice taut with need. “I never wanted
your damn house, you know.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “I thought I was looking for a home, but I was looking for you.”

  “Well, fancy that.” Tuesday said. “I was looking for you, too.”

  Behind them, the falcon fell from its perch on the sycamore bough. It caught itself, much like a hang glider does after running off a cliff. The falcon soared upward, kept aloft by a thermal caused by the sudden heat of a kiss that promised forever and maybe a little longer.

  Epilogue

  A

  idan was tired. It had been an extra long day—from the moment he’d rolled out of bed, untangling himself from Tuesday’s warm, soft limbs, he’d been on the run. He’d had to oversee the insulation work at the Mantel’s house, then he had to run to the network’s job site (Jake now had to date every single woman who bought a house for On the Market, and he was loving his new role) where they’d found an extreme and unreported termite infestation.

  Then, like he did every day, he went to the house he’d bought with the money he’d made from selling the condo.

  The sign had just gone up, dark green with white lettering. Ballard Youth.

  It made his chest feel full, just to look at it. Bill sure would have loved knowing that within the next six months, there’d be a place for kids to go to—a safe place—no matter what was going on in their lives.

  Liam and Jake had been stunned when Aidan told them what he planned to do. Seriously? We thought we couldn’t buy a place for at least another couple or three episodes. And even then, we were looking at something small.

  The house Aidan had bought wasn’t small. It was an old five-bedroom place that had once been a shore house for fishermen, back at the turn of the last century. It’ll be big enough in case kids need to stay. We can hire a night manager. Get on the roster of approved emergency fosters.

  It would take another six months, at least. There were a million hoops to jump through, and the red tape piled up astronomically, but at some point, Ballard Youth would be a place for real, true hope. A home. Aidan was doing the work mostly by himself, an hour here and another hour there. Jake and Liam both helped when he needed extra hands, and some afternoons, he paid the fish boys to help with grunt work.

  Tonight, he’d spent an hour ripping at lathe and plaster—he was widening a closet in a room that would eventually be a sixth bedroom. He’d only let himself work for an hour—Tuesday had made him promise to be home for a birthday dinner surprise.

  Tuesday. Who needed a birthday surprise when he had her? Hopefully it would just be a plate of spaghetti and maybe a shot of good Scotch.

  And her. Always her.

  He pulled the truck to the curb and gazed up at the old Callahan house. His clothes hung in the master bedroom closet now, probably right where Mr. Brown’s clothes had hung so many years before. Tuesday kept trying to put his name on the deed, but he wouldn’t let her. We’ve got two houses. Your name’s on one, mine’s on another. We’ll live in this one for now. It was good enough for him. The wedding band that he’d put on her hand last spring and its match that didn’t leave his left hand—that was all he needed to be sure of her.

  He glanced up at the top of the house as he walked to the door. The Missus Walk, as they called it, looked perfect. From it, Tuesday sometimes watched him fly.

  But more often, she was with him, flying next to him. She had her own glider now and was intermediate rated.

  And she had her own car, a small green hatchback.

  She drove herself around town, white-knuckling it sometimes, but driving.

  He opened the door. “I’m home!”

  Nothing.

  That was odd. Usually he was greeted by a happy laugh from the depths of the house. “Hello?”

  Still nothing. The lights were out, and when he flipped the switch, nothing happened. Had the overhead light burned out again? He’d just replaced that bulb.

  He made his way through the darkened living room and into the kitchen. “Tuesday?”

  Aidan flipped on the light.

  “SURPRISE!”

  Everyone.

  Absolutely everyone was there. His brothers, the network gang, everyone on his work crews. Tuesday’s parents were there, to his surprise. The entire city council was there, as well as most of the police and fire department. Adele Darling was there with Nate—they must have closed the Golden Spike to get away. Norma, looking a bit odd so far from her perch at the saloon, hollered, “Happy birthday! I did a tarot reading for you and you would not believe what’s in store for you!”

  People roared with laughter, exulting in his look of honest surprise.

  You didn’t know?

  Did you see your cake?

  Marty parked right in front, and we knew you’d figure it out. You didn’t figure it out?

  Everyone was there but Tuesday. He accepted a glass of champagne and hugged his way through the packed kitchen. “Where’s my wife?” God, he still liked saying that. “Anyone seen my wife?”

  “Through here,” Tuesday called. She was alone in the dining room, dimly lit by a single candle on the table top.

  Wait. That wasn’t their table. Their table was the big oval mahogany one that the network had bought. Neither of them liked it, but it was what they had, and it worked to hold up their dinner plates.

  This one was bigger. Rectangular.

  He flipped the light switch.

  At first he could only see her. Red strappy dress, her hair curled and away from her face. Red lips. No makeup on her eyes, just that gorgeous brown gaze of hers, the one that reached his soul every time she laughed.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi, you.” There was a file folder on the table in front of her. “I have two birthday gifts for you.”

  “I hope one of them is you.”

  “I have three birthday gifts for you.” She pulled out the chair next to her. “The first is this table. Do you like it?”

  Aidan grinned. “I really do. It’s older than I thought we wanted, but it’s good looking. It fits. It looks a lot like Mrs. Brown’s old table, actually. How’d you manage that?”

  Tuesday reached in front of him. She touched a scar in the wood.

  It read Caleb.

  “Holy…” It couldn’t be. Aidan pushed his chair back with a clatter.

  He dropped to the floor.

  Above him, Tuesday laughed. “I knew you would do that next.”

  She knew, then, that he would already be sliding under the table. He had a small flashlight in his pocket, and he clicked the button to illuminate the underside of the table.

  There, in faded yellow paint. Aidan.

  He scooted back out. His nose stung, and his heart was so big he thought it might not fit in his chest anymore. “Where did you find this?”

  “At the Episcopalian rummage sale.”

  “We went together.”

  “Remember I bought that vase? When I picked it up, I saw the name. I asked Henry to hold it for me. When I went back, I saw your name, and then I was sure.”

  Aiden took Tuesday’s face in his hands. “You couldn’t have given me a more precious gift.” He kissed her. She tasted like mulled spice and happiness.

  “I don’t think that’s true.”

  “No, really.” He pulled back. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever been given.”

  She touched the file folder on the table. “Open your other gift, then.”

  Aidan rubbed his chin, suddenly terrified he knew what was inside. “I can’t.”

  “You can.”

  He searched her face, and found nothing but radiant joy. “Oh, my God.”

  She nodded, tears in her eyes.

  The picture paper-clipped in the file was tiny, no more than two inches square. The baby had thin jet-black hair and dark eyes. She was lying on a tiny mattress, swaddled in a threadbare pink blanket.

  He recognizer her, even though he’d never seen her before. His daughter. “The paperwork went through?”


  Tuesday nodded. “I bought us the plane tickets to go pick her up. We leave at dawn. The orphanage will bring her to the legal consultant’s office.”

  “Then she’s ours?”

  Tuesday nodded.

  “Really, truly ours?”

  Tuesday covered her mouth with a small sob. She nodded again.

  Aidan pulled her to him then, and he didn’t care that everyone else at the party had silently filed in to the dining room to watch. He kissed the top of Tuesday’s robin-brown head. “What do you want to name her?”

  Tuesday smiled up at him, tucking her hands into his front pockets. “Grace.”

  Of course. Tuesday’s child was full of grace.

  Their child.

  He kissed her then, with no regard for the company watching. He’d have time to talk to them all later.

  She kissed him back. And his heart flew.

  About Rachael

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  Rachael Herron is the bestselling author of the novels The Ones Who Matter Most, Splinters of Light and Pack Up the Moon (all from Penguin), the five-book Cypress Hollow series, and the memoir, A Life in Stitches. She received her MFA in writing from Mills College, Oakland. She teaches writing extension workshops at both UC Berkeley and Stanford and is a New Zealand citizen as well as an American. You can find her at RachaelHerron.com.

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  Keep Reading

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at the first book in the Darling Songbird series! And don’t miss a minute in Darling Bay! One unforgettable town, three standalone series (read them in any order!). So many ways to fall in love!